FINAL GLORY
By HENRY HASSE
The Sun was dying—and with it the System.
Earth was a cold stone. Survivors huddled
on a cheerless Mercury, waiting numbly.
But Praav in his inscrutable wisdom—
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Spring 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
N'Zik was a forlorn and weary figure at the forward port. He balanced his frail, bulbous body on four of his eight limbs, while the other four moved listlessly over the etheroscope, adjusting sights and lenses. N'Zik wondered dully why he bothered. Even from here he could see that the system looking ahead, the dull reddish Sun with its wild and darksome planets, was not for them.
Bitterness flooded his soul. To have come so far and searched so long, only to find this! In all this Galaxy here was the one Sun that sustained a planetary system, and that Sun was dying! The irony was more than he could bear.
Shi-Zik came to stand beside him. Only she and N'Zik were left, of all the thousands; two alone on this driving colossus which was the only world they had ever known. She sensed his bitterness now and tried to speak words of hope.
"See, N'Zik, there are inner planets! How close their orbits are! There may still be warmth and life-sustaining rays."
N'Zik's limbs sprawled outward in despair.